Undead's Abyss
by EyeofLight
Summary: A novelisation of Dark Souls 2. When the twisted threads of black fate loom, What choices should be made in one's hollowed mind? Feel free to leave me a message and i could include your OC as a summon, Please just leave your sign location, equipment and appearance, and whether you would like to be an assistant or an invader, in a message to me.


"Well, this sucks…"

My last thoughts as the blade enters my sternum are surprisingly mundane. I guess if you live your life on the knife's edge, you aren't surprised when you fall.

The stretched skin of the leering skull-faced soldier grins at me as the world begins to blur, darkening. I can feel the cold metal in my stomach, feeling my life flowing from the rip. The undead soldier's skeletal hand lets go of the handle of its sword, leaving the metal plunged deep inside me. I feel the strength leave my legs and I fall to my knees, my own blade clattering to the hands prop my body up, staring into the light, reflective metal of my sword, the graceful curve of the blade showing my ashen-white face, letting me see myself again as the world slips away. My hand trembles, slowly reaching into my coat, withdrawing a small, orange-green glass. A few tiny drops of amber fluid reside at the bottom of the bottle, and I shakily pour those few drops into my throat.

I groan, body wracked as the pain of the stab finally hits me, the feel of the metal inside me puncturing my organs. The amber liquid slides down my throat, and I feel…slightly revitalised. I can feel my skin itch as my skin starts to knit together, closing the wound. I stare down at the blade in my chest, looking at the rusted, twisted length of ancient steel. I know, deep inside, what must be done. I reach up, kneeling back as I grab the broken handle of the sword, pulling it slightly out of me, revealing the rusted, broken shard of steel. With all my force, I yank the blade out, breathing huskily as some blood leaks into my lungs. As I pant in pain, I feel blood fall from my lips as I choke, breathing heavily as I finish pulling the blade from my chest, letting out a spurt of blood as it exits my stomach. I fall forwards, stopping myself with my hands, my mouth opening into a silent scream as pain floods my body. I shudder, feeling the last of my skin knit together, and I look up, staring at the hollow in front of me. Juddering, it stares at me, eyes glowing with undead lustre, stepping forwards, probably intending to end me with its bare hands. With my last surge of frantic strength, I rise to my feet, using its own sword, slick with my own blood, to stab it in the neck. The blade enters its throat, cutting into the leathery skin, tinged with age. No blood exits the wound, but the monster staggers regardless. Yelling, blade whirling in my arms, I turn at my waist, slicing with the nearly-blunt steel, severing the rotten thing's neck. The rotten steel falls from my hands, clattering to the floor at the same time as the headless hollow's corpse. I groan, nerves on fire, kneeling to pick up my sword, gently sliding the nicked edge into the sheathe, clutching my belly with the other hand.

Sorry. Perhaps I should start at the start. My name is Mujin. I am a wandering swordsman, travelling with my blades at my waist and my clothes on my back, needing very little else. For the past three years I have wandered, homeless and goalless, seeking….I was never sure what I was seeking. I…I think it was something to do with the sign I bear. The Darksign. The hollowing curse. Eternal undeath. My….my mind is fogged by this sign – my past is burred, fractured – huge gaps lie in my mind, empty spaces where memory has slipped away into the darkness. These gaps have spread for the last few years – I cannot remember where I came from, who I was….if I had any family. All I know now is that to stay alive, I need souls. I need the strength of my enemies to stay alive – either I live or they do. But…. I seem to remember only one thing, one thing staying in my mind. A legend. An ancient tale, a….a strange memory. A story of a whirling vortex – water making a path to another world, a hidden world. I knew the location of the forest, the forest leading to the lake, the lake keeping the other world safe. I know that to enter that world would mean…a possibility, a chance, however small, of overcoming the fate of the Undead. This…Putrid fate. I remember travelling to the lake…I knew that I was close to dying. I remember collapsing into the dirt, mud splattering my patchwork coat, my body slowly dying – my nerves were numb, unable even to feel the belting rain. My hood was soaked, keeping the water off my face – barely. I remember staggering to my feet, body pushed past its limits, staggering through the woods, passing hundreds of trees, which stretched as far as the eye could see. I kept staggering for what felt like days, Reflecting on what had bought me here. My mind was…fogged, the ends of my memories frayed. The Curse. The Darksign slowly pulls it's host's mind apart slowly, shredding their memories and erasing their past from their memory. The effect is starting on me, too. My mind, my life before this point…fades…Faces blur in my mind, my thoughts turning soft and less tangible as I try to remember…as they slip away into the void of the darkness. I shudder as my vision fades, blacking out. Trapped in my mind, I see…a figure. A mother, cradling a baby in her arms. I struggle through the quagmire of memories…and remember.

Me.

The baby is me.

And the figure, her head concealed by a hood…my Mother. I stretch out my hand, desperately reaching for the figure, desperate to see her face one last time before the curse erases her, as if she was never there. I stretch out…and gasp as I see her features meld and drip, her face a smooth expanse of flesh as her eyes turn to liquid, he mouth falling from her face and falling to the floor. I don't…know her anymore… A dizzying rush of emotions hits me, and I shiver as I feel my body fall, catching myself with my arm still extended. I look ahead, to see a wrought iron door handle. Gasping, I step back, looking around as an ancient voice, groaning with age, speaks. "Long Ago, in a walled off land, far to the north…" I turn around at her voice, slowly walking past a wall. I lean my hand on its frame as I pass into the room, and feel a spider's hairy body rustle over my grip, scuttling along the wall. I shiver and look past the hole, to see an ancient woman. Clad in a dusty gown, she is using a spinning thread machine to make...something. Her ancient eyes, glassed over with cataracts, slide up from her work to stare at me, as if they are seeking me. I shiver as her blind eyes stare into mine, a marksman's eyes. Seeking me. I watch as she carries on her tale. "…a great king built a great kingdom… I believe they called it Drangleic. Perhaps you are familiar…" She shakes her head softly, the candles arranged around the room flickering in the half-light. " No...how could you be?" She smiles upwards, blind eyes locked to my eyes."But one day, you will stand before its decrepit gate, without really knowing why…" She smiles up again.

My thoughts are..foggy for this moment. The next thing I remember is…waves. Water, deep and black, flowing underneath my boat, the wooden timbers creaking gently as I feel myself paddle the boat across the water. Way above me, the bright white moon shines out, lighting the world…casting the surrounding forests into sharp relief. Passing underneath the shadows of the trees, I can see a tree ahead. The tree is spotted with red, tiny flitting red shapes…bright red bugs, circling the tree. I paddle the last few times, letting the paddle fall into the water. The last few scraps of legends, flitting through my mind like the bugs on the tree…to wait for the bloodied moon. I stare into the sky, looking past the tree, as a red shadow begins to fall over the moon. A whoosing sound assaults my ears, making my eyes drift down. Huge waves of the fireflies are moving, circling the tree, faster and faster. They twirl madly, rushing forwards and through an ancient stone doorway. I gasp as they start to dive down, flashing down into the water. As they collide with it, it starts to swirl, twirling slowly. It starts with a few ripples as the first flies hits it...but it quickly escalates into huge, rippling waves. The water splashes around and around like water down a pipe, and the hole is suddenly revealed as a few of the fireflies poof into the wooden sconces on the walls of the gate, lighting the area. As they do, strange shades flit from the hole. Hundreds of shades, legless abominations, legless floating horrors with naked skulls and whitened eye sockets..they circle too over the ever-expanding waters abyss. I slowly walk towards the edge of the stone platform, past the gate. My lantern is dying now, it's light guttering, much like my memories. I Smile gently down at the hole…my escape.

My salvation. I stand at the edge, staring down into the deep blackness. The swirling ghosts and the blood-red moon are the last things I see.

As I fall.


End file.
